Erised
by Dea Artio
Summary: "Erised stra ehru oyt ubecafru oyt on wohsi" The characters of Harry Potter confront their biggest desire... The saddest, the darkest, the most secret... or occasionaly their most human.
1. Draco Malfoy

**Dea Artio: Harry Potter is J.K.R. property, but that is my original text, translated from french by my dear friend Baaldr**

 **Baaldr : Thanks for the support you gave, it really help me to improve ;) Thanks !**

Draco Malfoy

Two hours, two hours now that he was watching the mirror with ecstasy.

Two hours, two hours that he was praying for it to be true.

Two hours, two hours now that he was clamping his arm tightly.

Two hours, two hours now that he was pressing the dark mark.

Two hours, two hours now that it was really painful.

Two hours, two hours now that his sleeve was raised.

Two hours, two hours now that the bandage normally covering his arm rested on the floor.

Two hours, two hours now that in front of him, in the mirror,

His reflect was smiling, mocking,

With his hand reaching his own arm, a blank one.

Draco fell on the floor, the pain was too strong.

Draco started to cry, the mark will never leave him.

Draco cried, the fear will always stay with him.

Draco looked at his reflect, and the reflection smiled at him.

Draco was sure, the reflection was mocking.

Draco wanted to break it, but Draco never could.

Because the reflection in the mirror, the hateful reflection, was all the thing Draco desired.

Because the reflection in the mirror, the hateful reflection, wasn't wearing the mark.

Because the reflection in the mirror, the hateful reflection, wasn't the one watched with heinous glare.

Because the reflection in the mirror, the hateful reflection, didn't know what war was.

And Draco Malfoy envied it.

He envied it so badly that he would've given everything, to pass on the other side of the mirror.


	2. George Weasley

**Dea Artio : I hope you'll enjoy chapter two, I really like this one and think Baaldr did a great job with the translation. Review ?**

George Weasley

The mirror only reflected his own image. He didn't saw any change.

Yet, George was far from happiness.

The mirror only reflected his own image, almost. With an ear added.

Yet, George didn't cared about this ear he don't have anymore.

The mirror only reflected his own image. His own, Fred's one.

Yet, George was here, alone, because Fred has died.

Yet, George wasn't laughing, he was even crying, because Fred has died.

Yet, George will not be able to take him in his arms, against him, because Fred has died.

Yet, George didn't moved, didn't smiled, because Fred has died.

George knew it, Fred will never come back.

George looked at the mirror and saw Fred.

Fred-From-The-Mirror looked at reality and saw George.

George looked at the mirror and became Fred.

Fred-From-The-Mirror looked at reality and saw his reflection.

Or was it the contrary, maybe it was George who saw his reflection.

And maybe was it George who died, and Fred who lived.

And maybe was it Fred who lost an ear.

And maybe was it Madness who lost Fred.

But we never taught him to make the difference, the difference between Fred and George.

Then Fred-From-The-Mirror smiled at George.

Then George smiled at Fred-From-The-Mirror.

Then the brothers broke up without regret.

Because each mirror were their own Rised.


	3. Theodore Nott

**Baaldr : Do not hesitate to tell me some big mistakes I may have done. I am still learning ^^ Thanks !**

Theodore Nott

Theodore was smiling, the most beautiful smile he has never done before.

Theodore was laughing, a laughter he never had before, never.

Theodore was happy, a thing that didn't happened since he was five.

Theodore wanted to believe it, for the first time he wanted to believe it.

Theodore was crying, because he knew it was just an illusion.

Theodore wished he were an idiot, in order to believe it.

Theodore wanted to touch, but the rough surface of the mirror draw him back to reality.

Nothing was real, it was just another illusion.

But he wanted to believe in this illusion. He found it so beautiful.

He wanted that by his hand, as in the reflection, was the red liquid trickling.

He wanted that at his feet, as in the reflection, was moaning the agonizing.

He wanted his father, as in the reflection, to be the near corps.

He wanted his father, as in the reflection, to pay for his crimes.

He wanted himself, as in the reflection, killing this unfitting father; the assassin.

He especially wanted, as in the reflection, his mother to be alive to see him.

That his mother was alive to love him.

That his mother was alive to help him.

That his mother was alive to advise him.

That his mother was alive to simply be at his side.

He wanted the reflection to be real.

He wanted the roles to be inversed.

He wanted to exchange his mother's life by the one of his father.

The life of this exceptional woman against the one of a criminal.

Such was the gruesome desire of Theodore Nott.


	4. Bellatrix Lestrange

Bellatrix Lestrange

Bellatrix was crying, of joy maybe.

Bellatrix was crying, of laughter surely.

Bellatrix was crying, of horror with no doubt.

Bellatrix was crying, she was crying of pleasure.

The laughs resounded in the room, echoing in her head.

The laughs resounded in the room, children's laughter or Demon's one.

The laughs resounded in the room, and crashed on the mirror.

It was blood. Vital red liquid that made her head blow.

It was blood. It was the delicious hemoglobin of death.

It was blood. Pure blood of a wizard, her own.

It was blood. Black like her madness, or red like everyone.

It was blood. Real blood which stained the mirror.

Bellatrix was crying, of joy maybe.

Bellatrix was crying, of laughter surely.

Bellatrix was crying, of horror with no doubt.

Bellatrix was crying, she was crying of pain.

The blood trickled along the mirror, beading over the corner of the engravings.

The blood trickled along the mirror, reflecting thousands of ruby bursts on the walls.

The blood trickled along the mirror, a beautiful pink-red blood.

It was blood. The one of epic fights.

It was blood. The one infusing life.

It was blood. And it was her own. And it was beautiful.

Under the blood, appeared a little girl with weeping eyes, imploring to be delivered from this madness.

She saw her running in the clearing and laugh, but Bellatrix covered her with her vermillion dream.


End file.
